


Of Tea Leaves and Star Light

by babyfairy



Series: Need the Sun to Break [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-10 13:11:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12299814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyfairy/pseuds/babyfairy
Summary: The imprint of Katara's touch lingers, and he wonders if it will scar him, too.





	Of Tea Leaves and Star Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niallsvoice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niallsvoice/gifts).



> This is loooooooooooooooong overdue for my sweet Q. I'm soooooo sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy this!!

It starts with a cup of jasmine tea.

When he's given the order, Zuko doesn't think anything of it. It's the most popular order here, so he fills the cup and sets it on the tray, careful to keep each cup a safe distance from each other so that he doesn't mix them up. He delivers the other orders without problem, but when he reaches the recipient of the jasmine tea, he's too focused on placing the cup on the table to see who's sitting down.

Until his eyes catch a dash of blue.

Zuko glances up, surprised to see anything other than the usual shades of green and brown, and horror grips at his heart with the threat of stopping it.

Slowly, his eyes travel up over the familiar blue robes, the white fur that outlines the fabric, the damned necklace, until he meets a pair of shockingly blue eyes as wide and as horrified as his own.

The enemy is sitting in his tea shop, in his meager place of refuge.

The waterbender.

Katara.

Silence stretches between them for several moments. And then her brows drop, anger floods her eyes, and Zuko promptly snatches her from her seat and drags her behind the counter before she can blow his cover. He ignores the curious gazes they pass, pausing only before the owner. "An old friend," He mutters, grimacing at the indignant huff behind him.

Zuko pulls Katara behind the counter and into the small kitchen to hide from prying eyes. He whips around to face her, dropping her wrist as though it burns him.

"What are you doing here?!" He hisses.

"Me?!" Her voice reaches a new octave, outraged and shrill. "What are _you_ doing here?! This is another trap of yours, isn't it? You were just - just waiting to capture Aang, weren't you?!"

The accusations ripple across his skin and ignites the anger that lives inside of him. How dare she accuse him of anything? He hasn't seen her ridiculous group in weeks, and he wouldn't dare do anything to break the fragile security he and Uncle have built here.

"Get out," Zuko snarls quietly, pointing to the door. His skin feels hot; his heart is pounding harshly against his ribs. "Get out before you ruin everything like you always do! I don't care about your stupid friend, now get out!"

Katara inhales and he swears the air around them drops by three degrees. "You miserable-"

Zuko grabs her upper arms before she can finish her sentence and shoves Katara through the back door, out into the dark alley. The sun is still high, and this section of the city doesn't have a terrible crime rate, so he doesn't feel guilty for kicking her out like this or for the fury storming across her face.

"Do not come back," He orders, slamming the door in her face. He throws the lock into its socket and nearly melts the structure out of sheer frustration when he hears fists pounding on the outside of the door.

Zuko steps away and counts silently in his head. He counts until he no longer hears the waterbender outside. He counts until everything around him is utterly silent. He counts until the heat boiling in his veins is gone. Only then does he let his shoulders drop. Closing his eyes, Zuko exhales slowly and drags a hand down his face.

Of course. Of course when things are going right, the gods and the spirits and the stars and whoever the hell else insist on making his life difficult, like always.

\---------------

He keeps an eye out for her, and for her friends, every hour of every day that passes.

On the third day, she comes back, this time with the lemur perched on her shoulder. Zuko flat out refuses to serve her, much to the owner's chagrin. Each time he passes the man he bows and apologizes, but he staunchly ignores the table Katara and her lemur occupy. The daggers she glares at him embed themselves into his back as the day progresses, icy and cold. She does not leave, and the ice does not crack.

Only when the shop is empty does Katara finally stand. She doesn't leave, like Zuko had hoped she would, but instead marches behind the counter. It infuriates him, the way she walks around like she has a right to be wherever she plants her feet. No one gave her that right, and she certainly hasn't earned it.

"Get out before I throw you out again," He demands.

Her eyes, so bright and so blue, widen and flash with the threat of the ocean when she is unpredictable. "You wouldn't dare." The liquid in the tea pot on the counter rattles threateningly.

Zuko growls, curling his hands, ready to lunge forward when Uncle steps out of the kitchen. He stops with a start, eyes widening when he spots and recognizes Katara. She takes a step back and raises her hands, but Uncle raises his as well, waving them in a gesture of peace.

"We don't want any trouble," He insists quietly. "Whatever you may think of us, we are not here to cause you grief."

Katara's eyes narrow. Her hand rests on the pouch at her hip, feet planted firmly on the tiles; poised to attack. "Then why are you here?" She demands.

Uncle's eyes sweep the room. No one is around, but he ushers them into the kitchen regardless. Zuko balks at the idea, eyes wide, but the sharp look Uncle gives him quiets his unhappiness - though it doesn't quiet it enough to stop his grumbling as he follows them into the kitchen.

It's a cramped space between the three of them. "We are here as refugees," Uncle says.

Katara scoffs, loudly and rudely, but Uncle merely nods. "Think about it. Would Zuko be here willingly if that weren't the truth?"

That sharp blue gaze turns on him, critical, judgmental. "Absolutely not," She sniffs.

Zuko crosses his arms tightly and glares at at the wall beside him. This place was starting to become tolerable. He had finally allowed himself to accept their lot in life, and now the universe has decided to tip the scale against his favor once more.

Across from him, Katara watches him with the same critical gaze. She is closer than he would like, a foot or two away in the small space; this close he can see that her robes are worn with use and faded with time. A few fly away hairs stick out from her braid. She crosses her arms and mirrors his pose. He scowls openly at her.

Uncle turns around and removes the lid from a dish. He takes out two moon peach cakes and places them on a napkin, then turns back and extends them to Katara. "Your friend looks hungry," He explains, smiling when the lemur leans as far off of Katara's shoulder as he can get without falling to sniff eagerly at the offerings. Katara purses her lips, watching Uncle warily. She is far less hostile with him than she is with Zuko. Slowly, she takes the cakes and holds one out for the lemur. The creature devours it, trilling his approval as he does.

Though her shoulders have relaxed, her eyes have not. Zuko looks away once more. Something old and tired keens within him.

\---------------

This is how it goes.

She returns every other day, and he learns to expect her presence, so he greets her with Uncle's special tea mix and two moon peach cakes each time. She stays in her corner of the shop, always tracking him, always watching, always waiting. And he knows what she is waiting for. She believes what everyone else believes of him; that there is nothing good about him. That he is rotten to his very core.

He is used to the expectation of disappointment, and so he allows it to fuel him to do better, to be better, to show that he is not as predictable as everyone seems to think. He has long been tired of those chains around him and now is his chance to shed them and be the man Uncle Iroh expects him to be.

On the day that she doesn't come, he serves the other patrons in his usual silence. An older woman with a kind smile orders a single moon peach cake with mint tea. Zuko fills the cup to the proper proportion. He removes a cake from its container and places it on a saucer beside the cup, but instead of bringing the order out, he stands there, staring at the cake.

It's small and round, with a gentle crater in the center for honey or icing. Zuko stares at the pastry. The last time she was here, Katara had sat in her corner feeding bits of the cake to her lemur - Momo, she'd called him. He'd chirped at her, grabbing for the cake piece in her hand. Zuko had passed by them just in time to see her smile, a small turn of her lips, but it was warm and kind and affectionate none the less.

His stomach flutters as the memory plays out.

Steam rises from between his curled fists. Zuko snatches the tray from the counter and hurries into the front room, banishing the memory from the front of his mind.

\---------------

It continues with Jin.

She is lovely in a way that he has not seen before. Her hair is long, sectioned off into two lengthy braids, thick and dark. But her eyes are darker, that of freshly turned earth. She smiles at Zuko each time he comes near her, as though she is interested in his presence, and it unsettles him a good deal. She spends a lot of time in the shop, watching Zuko as he works, which raises his suspicions. Does she know that he is living a lie? Does she know that he is Fire Nation? She has to know. Why else would she come by so often?

But when she smiles at him, it is warm and inviting, something he's never been given access to before her visits, and he finds himself drawn in by her presence. 

Mere minutes after Jin arrives, Katara walks through the door. Her eyes narrow when she spots Zuko, like they always do, and she takes her favored spot in the corner. The lemur isn't with her today. He's glad for that; it's getting annoying cleaning up after his accidents.

Zuko passes by Jin once more to refill her drink. She offers him another smile, leaning forward a bit to hold her cup out for him. It makes Zuko's stomach flutter in a way he isn't used to. When he turns away, he catches Katara's gaze. She rolls her eyes at him, and his face flushes with irritation. He stomps back to the counter and sets the kettle down hard enough for the tray under it to rattle.

He's mentioned Jin to Uncle. Pretty as she is, his alarm bells are ringing. She finds Zuko at the counter to pay and begins asking questions. They're benign, harmless, and Zuko wants to wince at the slight tremble in his voice as he offers up a cover story. Jin only smiles at him, that same small, lovely smile, and then does something no one has ever done before: she asks him on a date. He can only stare, wide eyed, shocked into silence. Uncle answers for him and Jin eats it right up, promising to meet him outside the shop at five sharp. He watches her go, then frowns at Uncle, who only smiles. Zuko isn't even sure if he's interested in the date or not - he's never been on one before in his life. 

He glances across the room. The distance between them does nothing to blur the sharpness of Katara's frown. Zuko looks away with a scowl.

\---------------

It isn't the worst night of his life. Not by far. Jin has touched him more than anyone else has since his mother disappeared; she's called him cute, she's been kind and patient with him, even after the embarrassing attempt at juggling. All the while she's smiled at him, bright and warm, filling his stomach with a strange fluttering sensation. He's starting to think that maybe living as a refugee isn't that horrible after all.

The disappointment on Jin's face when she brings him to the darkened fountain is almost heartbreaking. Zuko watches her for a moment, flexes his fingertips. "Close your eyes," He tells her, "And don't peak." 

Jin's sweet smile emerges, this time tinted with excitement and curiosity. She places both hands firmly over her eyes. He doesn't want to admit how cute he finds that to be.

Zuko looks around warily. He moves closer to the fountain and takes in each lamp, presses his hands together to center himself. The fire he's been repressing begins to creep through his veins with a welcomed heat. Widening his stance, he moves quickly, throwing a number of small flames into each lamp. They find their destination and together create a ring of light around the fountain. It's as lovely as Jin insisted.

He turns to her. Her eyes are still covered, so he takes a moment to study her. She looks even prettier with her hair pulled high like it is. "Okay. Now you can look." His voice comes out soft, a threadbare whisper.

Jin lowers her hands and her eyes widen. "Oh, wow," She breathes. She moves to Zuko's side in wonder. "What happened? How did they light? What did you-" She cuts herself off with a slight shake of her head and turns to Zuko curiously.

Zuko's smile is small and secretive. He doesn't answer, turns to face the fountain instead. The lamps floating in the water rove continually around the fountain; the fire in them reflects amber streaks across the nearly black surface. It's beautiful.

He looks down when Jin's hand finds his and turns to her. Her touch is warm, welcomed; no one has been so open with him. So readily accepting. She's moving closer, making his heart pound loudly. Zuko reaches into his pocket. "I brought you something," He blurts, thrusting a coupon between them - a flimsy barrier to protect his suddenly anxious heart. "It's a coupon for a free cup of tea."

One brown eye watches him around the coupon. "Li," She says, reaching up to take it, and he wishes fleetingly that it was his real name, "This is so sweet." 

"Don't thank me, it was my uncle's idea." He steps away and rubs the back of his neck. "He thinks you're our most valuable customer."

"Your uncle is a good man." The hand on his cheek startles him. He follows her pull until he's looking at Jin once again. "I have something for you, too. Now it's your turn to close your eyes."

Zuko squints for a moment, suddenly wary. But he closes his eyes and waits, head bowed, unsure of what to expect.

It certainly isn't a kiss.

The contact is brief, but it electrifies him, the simplest press of her lips against his. He follows her without thought when she pulls away and kisses her again, suddenly craving the intimacy, the softness of her mouth, and then he pulls away abruptly, stumbling back before turning away from her. Something bitter and ugly coils within his gut.

"What's wrong?" The hurt in Jin's voice is plaintive, striking at the bitterness within him. 

He stares at the ground. "It's complicated. I have to go." Zuko forces himself to leave, forces himself to walk away from the comfort of the fire burning around them, from the warmth and affection Jin had offered. 

Shame crawls through him. What had he been thinking? Nothing good could have come from that and lasted. Such a good, lovely girl like Jin deserves far better than him. Zuko grimaces at the cobblestones beneath his feet. The longing inside of his chest disgusts him.

"That was utterly pathetic."

Zuko whips around. Katara is standing behind him, arms crossed, a mean sneer distorting her features. The darkness of the street hides most of her face in shadow. Anger explodes within him, hot and dangerous. "What are you doing here?" He growls.

Her eyes widen just a bit, as if she's been caught at something, but she quickly narrows them. "I didn't trust you with that girl," Katara answers. She crosses her arms, as if defending herself from the accusation tossed at her feet. "I thought you might try something, but all you did was embarrass yourself." The disdain dripping over her words cuts at the old creature living inside of him, adds another lash to its scarred hide.

Zuko growls again, a frustrated noise. His fingers curl through the air around nothing; steam trails from their tips. "It was a date!" He shouts. His voice bounces against the walls of the buildings surrounding them. "She asked me on a date, she wanted to spend time with me! Why is that so hard to believe? I would  _never_  have done anything to hurt her, she's too good!"

The anger leaves him in a sudden rush, deflates him like a popped balloon. A heavy ache settles across his lungs. "Is it really so hard to believe that I deserve anything good?" His voice is so quiet, so raw and bruised, but he doesn't care. He's been without his armor for too long now; it's impossible to keep his wounds covered. 

Shoulders hunched, Zuko turns away. He misses the shock in Katara's eyes - misses the way it melts into shame and remorse. Zuko sinks onto a small bench. It's cold and lonely like him. He scrubs at his eye with the heel of his hand, tries in vain to rub away the tears there. He wishes he had never come out, wishes he had never come to this city, wishes he had never been banished - wishes he had never met a waterbender with more fire in her than she deserves.

"Zuko, I'm sorry."

Her voice startles him. He looks up with a frown to find Katara standing in front of him. Her fingers are laced together; shame lingers in the corners of her mouth. Her eyes widen at the sight of the tears glittering against his lashes, against the mottled ridge of his scar. "No, please don't cry," She murmurs. Her mouth tugs down into a pout full of guilt. She sinks into a crouch and touches his knee lightly. "I'm sorry," She apologizes again, eyes searching his, "That was really mean. I don't know why I said it." 

Zuko can only stare at her. They've only been this close once, maybe twice. Fire, ice, anger, even hatred had always been protective barriers between them; now, there is none of that. The air is different, thick with something he can't name, has never known. Her eyes look so pale, stripped of their vibrant blue, almost the color of bone.

"You haven't done anything truly bad since I found you here," Katara continues, "I just - I don't know, I didn't want to let my guard down, I guess." Her eyes search his and she lifts a hand. He flinches away when she reaches for the ruined side of his face, so she exchanges that hand for the other and brushes her fingertips across the smooth skin of his unblemished cheek. Tiny bolts of electricity race along his skin under her touch. "Please don't cry," She repeats, voice softer, and leans in.

She kisses him. She kisses him, a simple press of her lips against his, and it's like she's frozen the blood in his veins, every drop of water inside of his body. His eyes are wide with shock. Not even in his dreams could he have imagined this happening. Katara presses several small, gentle kisses to his mouth, and after the fourth one, he melts enough to respond. His mouth moves against hers, unsure, slightly clumsy, but her fingers rest on his chin and she guides him. A curious liquid sensation rolls down his arms, down his torso, settles into the pit of his stomach. His eyes fall closed and he allows himself to simply feel, to experience the strangeness of the moment.

Her thumb caressing his jaw brings him back to reality. His heart stutters against his ribs and Zuko jerks back, tumbles off of the bench. He stares at Katara, eyes round and scared. She stares back at him, uncertainty written into every feature. He doesn't know what to make of what just happened. If it's a trick, it is an ugly and dirty one to play.

Touching his mouth with the back of his hand, Zuko does the only thing he can - he runs. He refuses to look back, refuses to slow down until he's in the apartment, until he's in his room. He can feel the weight of Uncle's stare through the screen, knows he has questions, but he can't face that right now. How can he answer them when he can't even answer his own?

Zuko touches his lower lip. His hand trembles. The imprint of Katara's touch lingers, and he wonders if it will scar him, too.

\---------------

It changes with the kiss. 

Days pass without Katara's presence. Zuko tries in vain to pretend she had never invaded this new life he's building in this stone city. He goes about his days, serves tea and pastries like he's supposed to. He pretends the corner Katara occupies isn't somehow darker and more forlorn without her presence. He pretends none of this has ever even happened.

And then she's back one day, standing in the door way when he turns around. The sight of her causes him to drop his tray in shock. For a moment he's frozen in time, surrounded by chipped tea cups and dredges of tea, shocked that she actually returned. 

Katara turns her hand over, almost lazily, and the liquid on the floor is placed in the one cup that managed to land up right. She steps forward to gather the contents on the floor, but Zuko snatches everything with trembling fingers. He clutches the tray and its broken contents and rushes behind the counter, slams everything down, and hurries into the kitchen. His heart is pounding, threatening to burst through his ribs and flop across the floor until it lands at Katara's feet. Zuko growls angrily. A few kisses and suddenly he's a simpering, nervous idiot. He grips his chest and focuses on his breathing, staunchly ignoring the memory of her mouth on his.

\---------------

It goes on like this.

Zuko refuses to see Katara whenever she visits, refuses to even leave the kitchen on those days. She begins to linger well into the night, forcing him to hide for hours. Uncle begins crafting wild excuses for Zuko's behavior; it's only his excellent service and tea making skills that keep them from both being fired. The entire situation begins to infuriate Zuko; he's jeopardizing all of the hard work they've put into this new life over a girl. He's better than that, he knows he is. 

When he finally emerges from the kitchen, she is there, and he stubbornly ignores her. He ignores the persistent stares, ignores her table, ignores her entire existence. Many of the familiar customers, gentle older men and women, ask after his health, and it both humbles and embarrasses him. His behavior has been childish. He assures everyone that asks that his health has improved, but continues to ignore Katara's presence.

Eventually the shop is empty of all customers but one. Zuko sweeps up the floor, wipes down the rest of the tables, and continues to ignore the waterbender watching him. He moves behind the counter and carries the left over tea cups into the kitchen. It surprised him to learn that washing dishes isn't as horrible as a chore as he had first thought; now he finds it calming and methodical. 

The door behind him slams open. Zuko whips around, eyes narrowing as Katara barges into the room. "What is your problem?" She demands. Her voice fills the small room, angry and - hurt? "You've been avoiding me for days! I know I was a jerk, but was it really that bad?" 

A dull ache begins to pound at his temples. "What are you talking about?" He grits out.

Her hands land on her hips and the sight is intimidating. "We kissed!" Katara shouts. "I know I don't have the most experience, but - but we kissed! That's important, it means something!" The fire in her vibrant eyes fades just a bit as she regards him. "Doesn't it?"

Zuko stares at Katara for several heartbeats. His brain feels as though it's melted inside of his skull. "Of - of course it means something!" He stammers. A harsh flush creeps up his neck, painting his cheeks a violent red that almost matches his scar. "That - it was - Jin is the only other person that kissed me and that was right before you did, of course it means something!" He paces back and forth like an agitated alley cat. "But - but-" He growls, fingers curling into his palms. He has never been good with words, but to struggle so much in this moment is infuriating. "You're the enemy! I'm you're enemy, you can't - we're not supposed to - it had to have been a fluke!" 

His pacing stops abruptly and he turns to Katara. "Right?" He demands. "It was a fluke, wasn't it? Just some trick you were playing on me. Wasn't it?"

Katara inhales. Her chest rises with the motion. "No!" She answers, her voice once again filling the room, "No, it wasn't a trick or a fluke! La, Zuko, I am not that kind of person! I would never intentionally mess with someone like that!" She stomps closer, traps him against the counter. 

Zuko feels frozen in place by the indignity in Katara's eyes, by the anxiety in his stomach. She's closer than she was that night under the moon, almost chest to chest. The soft light of the kitchen reflects in her eyes; they're as blue as the ocean on a clear day and Zuko feels in danger of drowning in them.

"If my word isn't good enough," She breathes, "Then I'll prove it to you."

And then her mouth is on his again, and the ground shifts under his feet. This is not the chaste and gentle touch that she bestowed on him that night; this kiss is demanding, passionate, full of something Zuko doesn't know how to identify. Katara's mouth moves against his with a ferocity that he has never known, almost brutal in the way she sears him with the shape of it.

Zuko jerks away, sucks in a sharp breath that rattles through his lungs. Something white hot burns in his blood stream to the point of pain. He moves back, tries to step away, but Katara places a hand on his chest. "Zuko," She murmurs, and the world around him stills. "Don't run away from me this time." 

Zuko stares into Katara's eyes and this time he knows he's drowning, slipping down to the very depths of her soul. Her hand stays on his chest; the other moves to his cheek, to the one that isn't ruined, just like the last time. She leans in again, and this time, her kiss is gentle, so soft that something inside of him shatters. He responds hesitantly, mouth moving clumsily against hers for a moment. But Katara is patient. Her thumb slides across Zuko's cheek, her hand shifts to settle over his heart, feels the harsh pound of it under her palm, and he has the strange thought that when she leaves tonight, she might be taking his heart with her. 

For the first time, Zuko allows himself to enjoy the moment before him. He allows himself to bask in the sensations surrounding him, in the fragility of whatever is building between them. He settles his hands on Katara's waist and initiates another kiss. Her mouth is almost unbearably soft, and he's glad at least one of them seems to know what they're doing.

When they finally part, he isn't the only one breathing unsteadily. Katara watches him. Her eyes are round, a bit dazed, tinted with wonder. No one in the world has ever looked at him like that. His fingers tighten on her waist.

Just like that, everything between them has changed. Zuko can't look away, can't let go just yet, and idly he wonders just how badly this will hurt when he has to.

\---------------

It continues in secret.

Katara returns to the tea shop every few days. She stays until well after closing time, occasionally helping with clean up, letting Uncle Iroh charm her with his long winded tales. She seems to sense the emotions Zuko can't quite express, which he is grateful for. Being around her like this makes him feel skittish, fragile; it is a battlefield that is entirely different from the ones that they've met on in the past, and this time, the enemy he seems to be fighting is himself.

Often he wonders if her friends know where she is, but he can't quite bring himself to ask. It isn't often that he gets anything to himself, especially something as precious as this. He'd rather not spoil it by worrying about what others might be thinking.

Tonight Katara sits on the counter, watching as Zuko cleans the dishes. Occasionally she'll manipulate the water for him, but he waves her off with a smile, mostly to hear the soft laughter she responds with. 

"We found Appa," Katara says.

He looks up, but chooses not to comment. He doesn't want to give away the fact that he was the one that found Appa beneath the city, freed the bison to return to the Avatar's side where he belonged. The temptation to keep him and use him for bait had been strong, but his memories of Katara's touch had been stronger, so he had done the right thing and let the great beast go to find his companion.

A small smile curves Katara's full mouth. "We were all so worried, Aang especially," She continues. "He's so happy to have him back. It's understandable, Appa has been by his side for, well, over a hundred years."

It's odd for Zuko to hear about the Avatar in such a mundane manner - to be reminded that such a powerful being that represents so much is really only a child. He glances up, looks away from the gentleness in Katara's eyes. A small flame of jealousy licks at his stomach. Of course she would speak so highly of the boy. She's defended him with everything in her since the day Zuko had stumbled upon her small village. Not for the first time, he wonders why she's here instead of with the Avatar.

"I suppose we'll be leaving soon." The forlorn note in her voice sticks to his ribs. She sighs softly. "There's still so much to do, so much for Aang to learn."

Zuko stands up. He dries his hands, lets the towel flutter to the floor, and moves to Katara. When she lifts her chin to look at him, he kisses her. "Don't," He murmurs, voice rasping over the word. 

Her eyes soften, sadness creeping up from their depths like the midnight tide. "Zuko," She whispers, but he shakes his head, silences her with another kiss. He knows she's right; he knows her group cannot stay in Ba Sing Se forever, knows that soon this will come to an end, but he isn't ready to deal with that just yet.

Katara sighs softly. She slides her arms around Zuko's neck, holds him to her, kisses him with a tenderness that threatens to drown him. He settles one hand at her waist, rests the other at the middle of her back, and allows himself to slip into the moment. He is acutely aware of everything; the hairs escaping her braid that brush against the back of his hand, the coarse fabric of her tunic, her knees against his thighs, her chest mere centimeters from his. He wonders if her heart is beating as savagely as his is. Her mouth is so soft against his, so warm, guiding him in how to respond to her, allowing him the room he needs to learn.

She breaks the kiss, leans back to look him in the eye. "You could come with us." 

The suggestion is quiet, but he jerks away, forces himself to take several steps back. Katara reaches for him, drops to her feet. "I mean it!" She insists. "Aang still needs to master firebending! Who better to teach him than you?" 

Zuko swallows thickly, swallows down the flare of irrational anger and mistrust that threatens to lash out. Her gaze is so earnest, he knows she believes in what she's saying. 

"I can't." He turns away, begins stacking the dishes more aggressively than necessary. They rattle with the impact. "Just because you tolerate me doesn't mean your friends will. They'd sooner toss me off of the wall than let me join them." And he wouldn't blame them; he hasn't exactly been the friendliest person to them. 

Katara huffs behind him. "I don't just tolerate you and you know it. And they would come around! They're reasonable!" She pauses. He can hear her foot scuffing against the tiles. "Mostly. Aang is, anyway. But Sokka and Toph would come around at some point, I know they would."

"No." He hesitates, stares at a tea cup in his hands. "Besides, I couldn't leave my uncle."

"He could come with us, too!" Katara moves closer. She tugs on Zuko's shoulder in an attempt to turn him around. "Of course he could come with us. Even if you don't want to teach Aang, Iroh could! Zuko, please look at me."

He grits his teeth, exhales through his nose. Something about the way she says his name makes it impossible to resist anything she asks of him. He turns reluctantly, looks anywhere but at her for several seconds. Once he does, she ghosts her fingers along his jaw, electrifying him. 

"I want you to come with us," Katara says. Her voice is soft, eyes round and so, so blue. Bluer than any part of the ocean he traveled across. "Please think about it."

Zuko curses quietly and hangs his head. She could ask him for every star in the sky and he'd be compelled to bring them to her. "Fine," He mutters, "I'll think about it." 

He is rewarded with a kiss on the cheek for his troubles, and somehow, it is enough.

\---------------

It shifts under the full moon.

The idea to take Katara on a date belongs to Uncle Iroh. To Zuko, it sounds like a disaster in the making. To Katara, it sounds like the adventure of a life time. And it's the look of excitement in her blue eyes that weakens Zuko's resolve.

As it happens, a small festival is taking place within their section of the city. It's Uncle that suggests that Zuko to take Katara to the festival for their date, and he's outwardly relieved to have the idea; he hadn't been able to come up with anything on his own.

Katara arrives after sunset. They had agreed on meeting in the tea shop as usual and this is where Zuko waits. He smooths his vest, a part of the same outfit he had worn that night with Jin; his options for clothing are limited now and he wants to look nice. 

He hears footsteps, and when he looks up at the door way, his breath catches. 

Blue is the color that has always surrounded her, so Zuko has never seen her in anything else, but Katara stands before him tonight dressed in shades of green, wearing them as naturally as she commands her element. The color is dark, like olives, with a sash and another robe underneath the color of cream. The most breath taking part, though, is seeing her hair down. Without the braid to contain it all, her hair is a mass of dark, rich brown that cascades down her back, thick and unruly and wild. The loops in her hair are still present - a small but comforting familiarity. 

Zuko can't look away as she comes closer. The colors compliment the warmth of her brown skin, make her eyes stand out like rare gem stones. 

His heart never really stood a chance.

"Look at you," Katara murmurs. She stops in front of Zuko with a smile. "You look so handsome." 

His blush is hot and swift and merciless. Zuko stands and clears his throat. "Thank you," He mumbles. "You look - you look beautiful." 

Her eyes light up, and the sweetest flush coats her cheeks above her smile, and Zuko feels weightless for several heart beats. He ushers her out before Uncle can ambush them and leads her into the depths of the city. 

The atmosphere has changed drastically. Lamps line the street to lend a warmth to the night that doesn't usually exist; strings of silver ornaments hang between each one, twinkling merrily in the light. The sound of drums and horns and singing carries to them from somewhere deeper in the ring, and the wind brings with it the smell of sweets and warm food. Katara inhales deeply. "Something smells good," She comments, and then she captures Zuko's hand and drags him down the street. They weave through throngs of people enjoying the festivities, enjoying a night off from their every day lives. Children run about, their shrieks blending with the distant music, tiny feet pounding in harmony with the drums. Lovers mingle about to relax in each other's company, twined together by the hand, the arm, unaware of anything else existing outside of their bubble. Zuko looks down at the top of Katara's head, noticing the large pink flower in her hair, and allows himself to smile. The pleasantry of the night is getting to him already.

They stop under an awning with tables and chairs scattered about. The music is closer now, but not yet close enough. Katara smiles at Zuko from across the table. "Your hair is getting long," She notes. "It suits you. Makes you look your age." 

Zuko smiles a bit, touches the ends of his hair self consciously. It's been years since he's worn it grown completely out. Katara reaches out and slides her fingers through his hair. She bunches a handful into a gentle fist, hums in approval. "Soft as silk."

Zuko swallows. He'd never thought such a thing could feel nice, but if he could get away with it, he thinks he might be content to lay still for hours so that Katara could do whatever she pleased with his hair. 

They're back on their feet after a small meal of rice and fruit slices. Katara leads him through the crowd. He'd never noticed before that she's a good few inches shorter than him; it's kind of cute.

Her feet are following the music and his feet are following her. The crowd thickens the closer they get to the source of the sound. Zuko holds onto Katara's hand to keep her close. His gaze moves warily back and forth; he hasn't quite gotten used to being around so many people, and the worry of being discovered never quite leaves the back of his mind.

"This is beautiful," Katara says, half shouting to be heard. The music is different from anything Zuko has heard, and apparently different for Katara as well. It's loud, pulsing; the drums seem to beat right through his bones. Powerful, just like the Earth Kingdom and its people. Zuko observes the people dancing around them. He hasn't had much experience with Earthbenders - thank Agni, they scare him - but the people here dance as though they intend to move the earth beneath their feet. Their movements are powerful, sharp, precise. 

There is a certain beauty in it, he muses, eyes locked on a man reaching for the stones as if he could wrench them from the ground and make them apart of his routine. There is no refinement to it, no elegance. It all feels raw, very lived in and current. There are no restraints around them - tonight, everyone is free of the lives they labor through day to day. 

Zuko guides Katara out of the crowd. She doesn't fight him, though her gaze is riveted to the performers, to the way they beat on the drums and pluck the strings the instruments creating the thick pulse beneath the drums. She turns to him, and the light in her eyes, so bright and vibrant, falls on him like sunlight. He soaks up every bit of it that he can.

"Can you dance?" She asks eagerly. 

His mouth contorts. "Uh-"

Katara laughs. She grabs his hands and tugs him closer. "I can't, it's okay," She insists. Her body begins to move, a gentle swaying that doesn't fit at all to the harshness of the music around them, but a movement Zuko finds himself hypnotized by.

Of course she moves beautifully. Katara's body begins to twist and turn, moving as fluidly as the element she commands. She tugs Zuko closer to her and traps him within her spell. He tries to follow her rhythm, but no one could possibly keep up with her, the true daughter of the moon, water incarnate. 

He quickly abandons trying to copy her movements and simply lets her body guide his. Her hands hold his hip, rest at the center of his back, guiding him along the gentle waves she coasts on. He moves a bit too sharply, almost painfully so, but she is persistent. The fire in him begins to adapt to her, and his body flows into hers, closer and closer until they are flush together. 

"Can't dance," He mutters, "Right."

Katara's smile is playful. "You're not as bad as you seem to think you are." 

Her smile is contagious, puts one on his face as well. He allows his hands to drift down her waist, to span her hips. The silk of her robe catches on the roughened cracks in his skin; her hair brushes at his cheek when he leans down. She turns her head and searches his cheek with her mouth. He feels the phantom touch all the way down to his bones, and he can't resist turning his head to meet her lips. 

The kiss is soft enough when their mouths meet, but the fire grows between them quickly and spreads. Katara brings her arms up to circle Zuko's neck. She presses closer to him, as if the lack of space between them still isn't enough, but he matches her need with his own by tightening his hands on her hips, by deepening the kiss with a sweep of his tongue across her lower lip. A faint moan rises in the back of her throat and turns Zuko into liquid heat.

Katara pulls back slowly, just enough to look him in the eye. Her eyes are electric, pinning him in place. They are full of things he cannot name, things that threaten to drag him under, and the scariest part is that he is more than willing to let them. "I don't want to go back tonight," She breathes. Her breath is warm across his skin. "I want to stay with you. I don't want to go."

His heart slams against his chest. Zuko swallows hard, nervously. His fingers bunch in the fabric around her hips. Katara watches him earnestly, so earnestly; her hand slides up to cup the back of his head. She's made the confession so easily, as if it costs her nothing at all to lay the wishes of her heart bare before him. Something in his heart responds with a painful yearning. He's wanted her to stay longer and longer each time she's visited him, but he's never been able to say as much. To know she feels the same, even for just one night, feels like a gift.

"Then stay," He whispers. 

She kisses him in response, fierce and full of need. When she pulls away, he follows her mouth, feeling utterly bereft of the warmth her kisses infuse him with. Katara bites her lip. She slides her hands down his chest and finds his own, pulls him out of the alley. Zuko follows her immediately, unable to do anything else.

He's hardly aware of the crowd as they move. Bodies press in from all sides, enjoying the music, their rare night of freedom, but he doesn't notice. His gaze is locked on Katara, fixated on the shape of her shoulders beneath the robe, the length and volume of her hair, the way it bounces slightly as she moves, the pink flower nestled against the back of her head. The color looks so nice against the rich darkness of all that hair, he finds himself wondering what she would look like in the same shade of pink.

The crowd begins to thin when they get closer to the apartment. Zuko shifts his hold on Katara's hand to slide his fingers between hers as he leads her in the right direction. He looks down at their intertwined fingers and quietly marvels at the sight. There's a simple intimacy belonging to the touch that he never expected, and now that he's experiencing it, he finds himself in awe at how comforting it is. 

The apartment is empty, and as he shuts the door, Zuko thanks Agni and any other spirit that might be listening that Uncle likes to stay out so late playing his pai sho games with the friends he's made around here.

It's dark, but he knows the way around. Zuko leads Katara to the small room that he sleeps in. He shuts the door behind her and moves to the small lamp in the corner, crouching down to ignite a flame inside of it. The light illuminates the room and acknowledges just how sparse the place is; his bedroll sits under the window, the blanket folded neatly across the end of it, his few clothing items folded beside the bedroll, with his swords beneath the material. Along with the lamp, nothing else occupies the space.

Katara moves into the room once she can see. Zuko stands and watches her, takes a step forward. She faces him as she sinks onto the bedroll. He takes two more steps, stops before the thin mattress. Katara's eyes are on him as she leans back on her hands, alluring and mysterious. 

His heart rams against his ribs as he drinks in what lays before him. Here is Katara, stretched out on his bed, bathed in the moonlight like an offering from the gods that he doesn't deserve. The sight brings Zuko to his knees.

Katara sits up to meet him. Her hands frame his face, one carefully avoiding his scar, and the attention and respect she gives him threatens to overwhelm him. Her lips are soft against his, with a hint of the same heat she had kissed him with in the alley, and it pulls him closer until his knees sit between hers, his hands finding her waist for balance. 

Her hands delve into his hair, nails scraping his scalp gently. Zuko shivers and presses closer. His hand slides to Katara's lower back to bring her closer. The space is steadily disappearing between them and his heart is beginning to notice, picking up its pace. Her fingers tangled in his hair makes him feel bold, her mouth on his makes him feel wanted, so he reaches up to unfasten the neck of her robe. Zuko breaks the kiss and glances down. The brown skin peeking out is tantalizing, teasing. He pries the fabric as open as much he can and leans in to kiss her neck.

Katara gasps at the contact. She arches, tips her head to offer him better access. Zuko creates a trail of open mouthed kisses along her neck; he rests his lips over the quick beat of her pulse, astounded that he is the cause of it. He closes his mouth over the rapid fluttering under her skin and a faint, soft moan slides out of her mouth.

The sound awakens something within Zuko. He sits back with a sharp inhale and unfurls the sash around Katara's waist. It falls helplessly to the mattress as he opens her robe, then fumbles with his own until it gaps around his torso. With trembling fingers he pushes the material off of him; the air feels cool against the fever rising beneath his skin. Katara stares at him with wide eyes. She reaches out, draws a finger down the center of Zuko's stomach and stops at the waist of his pants. The muscles beneath her fingertip contract tightly. Sitting up, Katara slides her robe off of her shoulders. There is another layer of clothing to go, but the cream colored slip outlines her in a way that makes Zuko's mouth go dry.

Katara reaches for him, pulls him down into a kiss that spikes the fever inside of him. Her hands travel along his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his sides, his back, exploring every bit of him that she can reach. "Off," She mumbles against his mouth, breath warm and quick, pulling her arms back to pluck at her clothing. "Take it off." 

Biting his lip, Zuko unravels the garment and slides it off of Katara. It pools around her hips with the outer layer, leaving her in her white wrappings. Zuko can only stare for several heartbeats. The contrast is striking, bone against the deepest bronze. Her hands frame his face once more, and he's surprised by the warmth of her touch, normally so cool. Zuko presses slow kisses to her palm, the heal of her hand, her inner wrist. Her pulse jumps beneath his lips and she grabs the back of his neck, hauls him down to crush his mouth to hers. 

Her fingers slide through his hair again, unable to stay away, and he groans at the contact. One hand settles around the nape of his neck, the other travels down his torso once more, but this time, she doesn't stop at the waist of his pants. Her touch slides lower to brush the part of him straining against the material and he jumps, pulling back with an unsteady gasp. Katara pulls away and watches him. There is no judgment in her eyes, which helps him relax. Exhaling, Zuko finds her wrist and guides her hand back to him.

Katara watches him as she palms him, slowly, carefully, curiously. She watches the way his chest begins to heave, the way a visible flush spreads under his cheeks and across his nose, the way his eyes flutter closed. Zuko moans softly; the sound bubbles up in his throat, unbidden. He isn't necessarily a stranger to his own body, he knows it well enough, but no one else has ever touched him so intimately. To consider that it might actually feel good is beyond his ability to think at the moment.

He forces his eyes open and nudges Katara's hand away gently. Any more and he might come too soon. Swallowing hard, Zuko reaches for the waist of his pants and slides them down his hips slowly. Katara's gaze immediately locks onto his arousal. The blatant stare makes him flush a violent red; he's never been so exposed to anyone before. But the fascination, the sheer hunger in her eyes, makes his cock throb in ways he's never experienced before.

Katara's gaze locks with his as she reaches for the knot that holds her wrappings together. Zuko inhales. His eyes follow the hypnotizing movement of her hands as they unravel the bindings, inch by inch, layer by layer. Slowly more and more of her brown skin is exposed until the wrappings fall away to lay with her robes. The sight is arresting. Zuko stares for a long moment, then reaches out to trace the line of Katara's ribs. He follows the shape of her breasts, brushes his thumbs over the peak of her nipples, which fascinate him to no end. 

With a quiet, unsteady breath, Katara closes her eyes and shifts. Zuko glances up and takes this as a sign of encouragement, that he's doing something right. He continues his exploration and allows his fingers to travel downward, over the soft swell of her stomach. He palms the shape of her hips and finds that he loves just how perfectly they fit into his hands, as if he had been made to hold their exact shape. Peeking up, he draws his fingers across her hips, through the patch of curls at the apex of her thighs. Katara inhales sharply and Zuko stops, looks up. Her eyes are wide, lips slightly parted and terribly inviting. She meets his eyes and slowly parts her legs - permission. An invitation. 

Zuko lets out a slow breath. The hand resting on her hip is trembling, so he slides his thumb back and forth in an attempt to soothe them both. Gently, carefully, Zuko moves his hand further down until he finds her center. Katara inhales at the touch, feather light and careful, and sits up just a bit. Zuko glances up, paying close attention to her reactions. He thinks she is as new to this as he is, being touched by someone else, which helps ease the fluttering in his stomach. It shocks him, how wet she is, and when she takes his wrist and guides his hand up just a bit, he follows obediently until he finds a small bud hidden beneath her curls. Katara makes a soft noise, a quiet little keen, when Zuko brushes his thumb over the bundle of nerves. He watches her as he moves his thumb in slow circles; he is somewhat clumsy with his movements, but if Katara knows this, she doesn't say. Her hips shift lightly against his hand, and judging by the look on her face, it's not as bad as he might think.

Zuko pulls his hand away gently and Katara makes another quiet noise, almost a little sigh of disappointment. A small smile touches his mouth. He slides his hand up her side as he shifts closer, and she lays back completely, compelling him to follow her until he's half hovering over her. Katara reaches out and settles one hand on his cheek, the other on his shoulder, and kisses him. It's insistent, demanding,  strokes the fire in his blood. His cock is aching now, hard and heavy between his legs.  

He nudges her knees apart, settles between her legs properly, and feels his heart tumble hard against his ribs when the tip of his cock touches her folds. Katara's breath stutters loudly in the quiet of the room. She turns her head and bumps her nose against Zuko's gently, a touch that comforts him, and widens her legs to accommodate him. Her knees rest somewhere near his hips; the press of skin against skin makes his pulse race in his veins. 

It takes a bit of adjustment, and then he eases himself inside of her, slowly, carefully, inch by inch. Their breaths mingle in unsteady gasps, seemingly filling the room. Zuko grits his teeth, rests his forehead to Katara's shoulder for a moment. She grips his arms, hissing quietly as she adjusts to the sensations herself. Slowly, her body begins to relax. Zuko presses a row of kisses along Katara's shoulder. He refuses to budge an inch until he knows she's comfortable.

Katara lifts a hand to his hair. "Zuko," She whispers, "Move." 

And so he does.

Zuko rocks his hips lightly. His body seems to know what to do, but his mind is still unsure, still a bit shocked at what's actually happening. He lifts his head to look at Katara, brushes her hair off of her shoulder. 

He almost stills completely when she laughs at him.

"You look so serious!" She murmurs, lifting her hands to his face. "Don't think about it too much. I know it's a little weird, but it feels good, too." Her smile eases some of the tension in his shoulders. She pulls him down to her, and her kiss relaxes him completely, allows him to find an easier rhythm, one that makes her gasp into his mouth.

Katara moans softly and Zuko kisses her again, swallows the sound to bury it somewhere deep within him. The pleasure building inside of him is astounding; he never imagined being so close to another person could feel so good. His mouth touches the corner of hers, tastes her jaw, trails down her neck to taste her skin. Katara moans again, arching just a bit, and Zuko inhales, wraps a hand around her hip and begins to thrust a bit faster. He's becoming greedy for those noises, for the way she reacts to him. Here, in the privacy of his room, with only the moon watching them, it seems to him that their bodies were made for this, for each other. It seems to him that she is a gift from the spirits for all of the suffering they have put him through.

Zuko lifts his head and rests his forehead to Katara's. She cups the back of his head and slides her fingers into his hair, tugs at the strands in her hold, and he groans, arching against her. Pleasure rolls down his spine to pool low in his gut - building steadily with each touch. Katara bites her lip and slides her free hand down Zuko's chest. Her fingertips rest lightly over his heart, and he knows she's aware of the way it pounds wildly in response to her.

It feels so natural to be joined with her so intimately, like nothing else he has ever experienced. Zuko kisses Katara, brushes his tongue along hers when she slides it into his mouth. He cups her breast, rolls her nipple under his thumb, and is delighted to discover just how sensitive this part of her is. She breaks the kiss with a moan, arching to push against his hand. 

The pressure is beginning to build, beginning to overtake him. Zuko kisses Katara once more, frantic and needy. Her grip on his hair tightens just a bit, and she reaches for his hand. Katara slides her fingers between his and holds on tightly, as if she needs an anchor to keep her in this world. Her walls clench around his cock, and he moans, knowing she must be close, too. 

Katara drops her head back, and stretched out beneath him like this, lost in her pleasure, she looks like an other worldly being, like the spirit of the moon trapped among flesh and bone. Zuko leans down, presses hot kisses to the center of her chest. His mouth wanders over the slope of her breast, his tongue flicks at her nipple, and she moans loudly, squeezing his hand in response.

"Zuko," Katara moans, and he comes with a ragged gasp. His hips thrust erratically as he rides through the pleasure filling every cell in his body. Katara tightens around him suddenly and cries out, the sound torn from her throat as her own orgasm overcomes her. Her hips rock against Zuko's as it washes over her, soft little moans accompanying the movements. 

Katara slumps against the bedroll as the pleasure ebbs away and Zuko slumps against her. He rests the unmarred side of his face to her chest; the rapid beating of her heart fills his ear, blocking out all other sound. He closes his eyes and listens to it like an undiscovered song, oblivious to the rest of the world's existence.

\---------------

Zuko awakens the minute the sun emerges over the horizon.

He sits up immediately and looks to his left. Katara is stretched out beside him, sound asleep. He watches her for a long moment to convince himself that the events of the night before hadn't been some cruel dream. Zuko eases down onto his side and watches Katara. She is sleeping deeply, undisturbed by his movement. She looks entirely different now; the sunlight warms her skin to a golden shade of brown, plays in the wild mess of hair that lays around her head like a dark halo. She is at peace here in their little corner of the universe.

Zuko puts his chin in his hand. She will be leaving soon and knowing this makes his heart ache. He closes his eyes, recalling the memories of last night - the way she had looked beneath him, how she had responded to his touch, how utterly beautiful everything had been. 

He sighs slowly. She will be leaving soon, and he knows without a doubt that, this time, his heart will be in her hands when she goes.

\---------------

It fractures beneath the crystal catacombs.

Zuko stares at the ground beneath his feet. He hasn't felt angry in so long that he feels a bit sick, yet there it is, creeping through him with a familiarity that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Azula's face, flawless and perfect, constantly circles back to the front of his mind. The memory of the triumphant look in her eyes makes his fingers curl into tight fists. His skin heats, fire threatening to incinerate everything around it, himself included. She wasn't here for him, not really, but capturing her traitor brother had been an added bonus to her impending victories.

He was a fool to think that things were actually changing for the better. Running from his past had been a mistake.

"Zuko," Katara says, and he closes his eyes. His shoulders slump a bit as she steps closer to him. He can't bear to look at her right now, can't bear to see what might be swimming in her expressive eyes.

He doesn't realize she is touching the scarred part of his face until her thumb settles against the corner of his mouth.

Everything inside of him stills. He doesn't dare move, doesn't open his eyes, doesn't even breathe. No one has touched that side of his face since it healed. No one has dared to come close to it. No one but Katara, who has not shied away from his disfigurement, but respected his boundaries instead. No one but Katara, who has paid enough attention to him to understand even the smallest nuances, ones Zuko himself hadn't been aware of before her. No one but Katara, who stands before him now with her slender fingers on the rigid, rippled, mottled reminder of his ultimate failure. 

Something deep within Zuko's heart aches. He can feel that part of him cracking viciously, threatening to break under the weight of his reality settling across his shoulders once more. The ache begins to spread through him until every bit of him hurts with a pain that is older than his scar. 

He feels lost suddenly, unsure of anything anymore. The stability he had been building with Uncle here in Ba Sing Se has been rocked by his sister's presence. What had they been thinking? Could they have really gotten away with living the way they were? Trying to do so had been stupid.

The walls around them tremble and cave inward. Katara jerks away, and Zuko feels the loss of her touch so deeply it feels like she's cut him open with a knife. The dust clears to reveal the Avatar standing beside Uncle Iroh, who's round face fills with relief when he spies Zuko.

"Aang!" Katara shouts. The relief in her is palpable as well, and Zuko watches her run to the boy. She throws her arms around him in a tight embrace, one that he returns without hesitation. Over her shoulder, gray eyes squint at Zuko, the suspicion in them clear. The anger within him begins to simmer like lava inside of a volcano. 

Uncle crosses the space to Zuko and pulls him into a hug that he returns half heartedly. When he lets go, Uncle watches him for a moment, and Zuko knows that he is reading everything inside of him like an open book. It makes his skin prickle.

"Go," Uncle says, "Go find your friends. We'll catch up to you."

Zuko's stomach clenches. He looks away before he can see Katara walking away with the Avatar - before he can see her leaving him behind.

Katara follows Aang reluctantly. She looks over her shoulder, eyes lingering on Zuko. He can feel the weight of her gaze, but he refuses to meet it - can't, lest he crumble to ash. 

Soon they are gone, and his fists tighten. He wants badly to break something, anything, to burn something to cinders in an effort to relieve the storm building inside of him. 

"You are not the man you used to be, Zuko," Uncle says, and Zuko's brow furrows as he looks up. Uncle's gaze is sharp, his eyes bright with knowledge Zuko cannot hope to understand right now. "You are stronger, and wiser, and more free than you have ever been. And now you have come to the crossroads of your destiny." Uncle lifts his chin, and Zuko is suddenly reminded that he is bloodkin to The Dragon of The West. "It is time for you to choose. It is time for you to choose good."

Zuko inhales through his nose. The air feels stifling, impossible to breathe in. He opens his mouth as the ground rumbles again. It is the only warning for the green crystals that materialize and race forward. Zuko gasps and lunges to the left, but Uncle is not so quick. The crystals envelope him and trap him in place, leaving only his hands and his head free. 

The wall opens again, in a much cleaner fashion, this time to reveal two Dai Li agents. Behind them stands Azula. Her eyes are glowing stones of amber in the darkness of the tunnel and immediately Zuko knows everything is about to change.

\---------------

It shatters inside of the abandoned city beneath Ba Sing Se.

Adrenaline pumps through Zuko's veins. The elements are erupting around him, forces of nature barely contained within the great stone walls. He rolls to his feet and is met with a sight that startles him - Katara has Azula by an arm and a leg, threatening to slam her into the ground. He's never seen Azula even remotely matched, and the sight unsettles him. The instinct to protect his sister propels him forward and  he twists through the air, kicking a line of fire that splits through the tendrils of water holding his sister captive. Azula lingers long enough to give her brother an approving smile. And then she hurries away, removing herself from Katara's reach.

Zuko watches her go with discomfort roiling within his stomach. He defended the right person - he protected his family. Isn't that why he chose what Azula offered? To be with his family again? 

Katara whirls to face Zuko, her arms still coated in water. The ache residing within him throbs at the livid look on her face, the open betrayal in her eyes. "I thought you had changed!" She yells, and the slight hitch in her voice pains him.

"I have changed!" He insists. He wonders if everyone else can hear the desperate note in his voice. He _is_ desperate, desperate to explain to her why he has done what he has done. She has to understand; she's one of the only two people who have ever bothered to try to understand him.

Katara inhales and lashes at him with her water, forcing him to deflect with his fire. This battlefield is one they know well, one they have met on many times. It will be the only place they meet now, Zuko realizes. He meets each blow Katara delivers, but there is no real fight in him, not with her. He has no wish to hurt her. 

Azula's words chase each other around and around in his mind. _You will have your honor back. You will have father's love. You will have everything you want._

He swallows past the lump in his throat. He's wanted that for so long, but is it really everything he wants now? Zuko looks across the stones to where his heart stands. "Katara-" He starts, but she cuts him off with a flurry of ice daggers. Zuko scrambles to melt them before they embed in his flesh and presses his lips together. 

He pushes away the thoughts of her smile, her touch, the tenderness that filled her eyes when she looked at him. He pushes away the memories of her laughter, the sight of her walking through the door of the tea shop. He pushes away the sensations of her skin against his, her hands in his hair, her mouth on his. It doesn't matter now. She won't ever look at him like that again, won't ever touch him like that again, and he will never be able to explain why he made this choice. He was a fool to think he could have anything with her; what did happen must have been a mistake.

The fight continues around them as they regard each other for a moment. Katara stares at Zuko, brows drawn downward over her large eyes. She shakes her head slowly, and something bitter rolls through Zuko's stomach. 

And then the ground around him shifts, forcing him to move away, to widen the distance increasing by the minute between them. Zuko diligently ignores the ache in his heart as he tears his eyes away from Katara and turns his attention to the Avatar. He has made his choice, and now he must leave his heart behind.

\---------------

The entire world is still as the Avatar falls from the air. Zuko stares in shock, unable to believe what he's seeing. In all of the time he had spent chasing the boy around the world, he had never wanted him dead. Yet his body continues to plummet towards the earth with a sickening speed. Beside Zuko, Azula radiates triumph, a satisfaction that makes his stomach churn.

Life returns to the cavern with the sound of rushing water. Zuko looks up to see a massive wave racing across the ground with Katara at the helm - racing to catch Aang. He inhales, takes a step back, and is swept up in her tide with everyone around him. Water rushes into his mouth, his nose, his ears, tosses him about like a rag doll. And just as quickly as it came, it's gone.

Zuko drops to the stone with a harsh thud and coughs up the water in his lungs. He pushes himself up quickly and looks around, and his heart falls.

Katara kneels before a mass of crystals with the Avatar's lifeless body in her arms. She looks up, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her gaze locks with his. Zuko's stomach churns once more, violently this time. He shakes his head once, opens his mouth to say something, anything - but what can he say? What could he ever say or do that could fix this horrible, horrible situation?

This is not what he wanted. Not this. Never this. 

Uncle Iroh drops to the ground before Katara, making Zuko jump. He lashes out immediately at the Dai Li that step towards him, his fire preventing them from getting any closer. "Go!" He shouts. He turns his head towards Katara but his gaze remains on the enemies before him. It sickens Zuko to realize that he is one of those enemies. "You've got to get out of here! I'll hold them off as long as I can!" 

Katara wastes no time. She frees one hand to twist the water around her into a geyser that lifts her and the Avatar into the air. Zuko can do nothing but watch them go. Katara propels them up, up, up until they reach the mouth of the waterfall and disappear from sight. The geyser begins to weaken, then falls abruptly. They are gone.

Uncle drops his stance as soon as he hears the water hit the stone. He folds his hands and bows his head. The Dai Li seize him immediately, locking him within a chamber of crystals, leaving only his head visible once more. Uncle lifts his head to look at his nephew once, and the disappointment in his eyes wrenches at Zuko's soul. Uncle turns his head deliberately and refuses to acknowledge anyone else in the room.

Silence falls over the ancient city. Zuko looks around at the damage they've done - at the damage _he_ has done. He lifts his head and looks at the mouth of the waterfall. Somewhere out there, Katara has taken the Avatar and her friends far away from this place. He knows that, somehow, the boy won't remain dead for long, not while he is in Katara's care. But he doesn't say this. His voice is gone. Instead, Zuko tears his eyes away and follows Azula as she exits the city. 

He has made his choice, and now he must live with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, there will absolutely be a second part to this! I've never been one to write pure angst or cliffhangers, and I have a lot of ideas I'd like to explore in the second piece to this.  
> Also, my sincere apologies if the ending felt abrupt and not properly fleshed out! I didn't want to go overboard with the details that come from canon, like Zuko choosing to go with Azula. I'll do better with part two. Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
